You can only watch, forcing down your reaction to the horror of w

          You can only watch, forcing down your reaction to the horror of what has been done.  The gang of highwaymen, or at least those dressed as highwaymen, rush out of your ancestral home in silence, flames already beginning to flicker from the second story windows.  In the distance, the sound of hoof beats and screams recede away, signaling to you that at least your servants are making their best attempt to escape.

          You think back on the orders you heard the attackers’ captain bark out, sending his men through the house in search of you.  As the only male heir to the family fortune, you knew your ransom would be a handsome sum. But these men, in their quick, precise movements, carried themselves with the air of professional soldiers. Perhaps mercenaries, back from the wars in Africa, but trained military men nonetheless.  And dressed as common rogues?  You have to suspect that ransom may not be their goal.  With extensive business holdings in your family’s name, as well as many political connections, you have no shortage enemies after your recent decisions.  Any one of them would love to see your position pass to a more amenable leader. Perhaps one who would be willing to reinstall child labour to the textile mills?  

          But you had little time to discover the attackers’ true goals.  You had to escape if you want to continue through life as a whole man. But you also knew that there was only one disguise available to you.  None of the servants’ clothes would fit your slight, reedy frame.  Even if they did, there was little chance you could pass as a man who worked as a servant.  One look at your unblemished skin, and the lack of callous’ on your hands, and any one would recognize your noble birth.

          No, there was only one choice.  To save your manhood, you would have to forgo your manhood.  Your twin sister, who often stayed at the house, was very nearly the same size and shape as you.   None would dare mention it, but it would take only a bit of padding in the right places to turn you into a nearly perfect copy of her.  And you also knew that she had left a few of her dresses in an upper story closet.

          You slipped away from your hiding place and snuck up to the room she often used.  There, in the closet, lay nearly everything you would need.  You quickly began assembling the clothing you would need and began to slip them on.   It was a unique test, as your only familiarity with this style of clothing came from taking it off the few of the local peers’ daughters who would let you get away with it.  But you muddled your way, quickly, through it and found yourself, for the first time, wearing the gown of a young lady.  You pulled your hair loose from the ties that held it in place under your usual wig and assembled it into something appropriate for the age.  Knowing their absence would cause unwanted attention, you grasped a pair of pearl earrings and, biting your tongue, stabbed their posts through your earlobes.  Removing them, you wipe away a small amount of blood and put them back in place.

          Glancing at your sister—no, you!—in the mirror, you realized that you are out of time.  You slipped away through the servants’ staircase and made your way through the gardens to the hills south of the house.  And that’s when you found yourself looking back.  The flames were truly beginning to roar, carrying away in smoke everything your family had built for the last twenty generations. And with it, all that signaled you as a man.  Anyone who came across you on the road would assume you were a young lady in distress, truly the most humiliating thing a man of your age could endure!  But endure it you must, if you are to reach your business office in the distant city.

          But first, perhaps your friend James could help.  He would have money and transportation to get you to Portsmouth.  The only problem would be what would happen when he saw you in your current condition.  A man? Dressed as a woman?  And running from bandits?  You would be lucky if he decided not to have you whipped, tarred, and covered in white feathers!  Still, he is your only refuge if these bandits still seek your skin.

          You lift the hem of your gown and petticoats, then turn towards the road east, unaware of how quickly you’ve become accustomed to moving as a lady…